Friday, July 6, 2012

A Crank and Sunny Weather

I have to admit that I'm not crabby today.  How can I deliver a good product if I'm in a good mood?  You're only here because you want to read something inappropriate.  Tell me it isn't true.

Okay, here it is.  I hate sunny days.  I prefer the low clouds and drippy weather.  I suppose it's a good thing I live in the Pacific Northwest.  Other people across the U.S. are currently inundated with sunny weather.   Inundated.  I saw on a Facebook status yesterday a photo of a car's temperature gauge at 111 degrees.  And some idiots think global warming is something the Democrats made up.  Yup, low clouds and misty rain will do me fine.  Today, it was sunny.  When I got home from walking the dog, I my armpits smelled sour.  I'm starting to smell like an old lady.  Yuck. The only smell worse is medicated shampoo and unflossed teeth.  Just a little sun, and I was stuck with two since the dog spent his sunny afternoon rolling in green elk poop at the dog park. 

Everyone else is all cheerful and crap about the sun, but I hate when I have to take off my jacket.  It has pockets that are big enough for what I need to carry.  It wouldn't be so bad with just my phone and my keys, but now I have to carry my wallet too.  See, the parks around here are notorious for having sharks, people who bash in a window, grab a backpack, and run.  I tell you, if I could get my hands on the guy who stole my backpack at Evans Creek at 11:00am on a weekday two months ago, I'd put his testicles in the vice Mike uses to hold his projects while he carves at them.  My mother told me it was unladylike to use the word 'nuts,' so I'm sure 'testicles' will do.  This guy tore my notebook into pieces and ruined my favorite picture of my old dog Indiana.  See, I got my backpack returned to me by this nice lady who found it next to her mail box.  She was sweet, worried about her neighborhood, and rather innocent to the vagaries of the evil classes.  It might have been better if I'd never gotten that backpack back.  It only served to make me angry, smelling like vomit and being filled with my torn notebook, wet photographs, and broken glass.

The other day, someone tried to get into my car while it sat in the driveway.  I was ready to rip the flesh from their bones.  If I'd caught these two, a guy casing my car and a guy in a car in the neighbor's driveway, I'd have taken out all my anger from losing my backpack on them, testicles in the vice, and all that.  Oh, I teeter on the edge when it comes to being ripped off.  I lived twenty minutes away from New York city for ten years.  I tell you, I know, without ever having had a karate lesson, how to defend myself.  Awareness and pure animal viciousness will go a long way on a street in NYC at 3:00 am.  Most of the evil classes are looking for an easy mark, someone who will be afraid or run away.  They can feel the fury.  Except for the crazies and the drug addicts, most of the evils don't want to face an angry old woman who wants to crank their nuts,or rather testicles, in a vice.

Thank you for listening, jules

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